Loss
by Smackalicious
Summary: This is one loss Tim and Ziva will never forget. Majorly McGiva, majorly angsty.


**Title: Loss  
Rating: PG-13  
Category: Het  
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family  
Pairing: McGee/Ziva established relationship  
Warnings: Just that this is some serious angst.  
Summary: This is one loss Tim and Ziva will never forget.  
Spoilers: Judgment Day and Under Covers, specifically  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.  
Author's Notes: Written for the Tearjerker Challenge on NFA. I've never had a miscarriage, so the reactions are just how I would imagine Ziva and Tim reacting to the situation. However, I do know people who have had problems conceiving and I would like to dedicate this fic to them. If interested, please listen to the following songs while reading. For lyrics: "Playboy Mommy" and "1000 Oceans" both by Tori Amos, and for general mood: "Nutshell" by Alice in Chains, "Black" by Pearl Jam and "Wise Up" by Aimee Mann. Also, the haiku at the beginning was written by me, so please do not take without permission/credit.**

* * *

_miscarriage_

_locked inside the womb,  
baby holds her breath and dies.  
she fades like sunsets_

She collapsed on the bathroom tile. What she had just seen . . . That image could never be erased, _would _never be erased.

Their baby was gone.

A sob choked her throat, then made its way out, staining the walls with the sounds of her agony.

A rush of footsteps. "Ziva? Ziva, what happened? Ziva, answer me. Are you okay? Ziva?"

She wailed louder. He would never forgive her. How could he? It was their _baby_.

The door unlocked and was pushed open. She looked to him, still full of shock, and spoke.

"Tim . . ."

He rushed in, squatting by her side, and ran a hand over her hair. "What's going on, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice calm and soothing.

More tears made their way down Ziva's face and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see Tim's face when she told him. She spoke in quiet, subdued tones, her emotions reined in by Tim's presence. "The baby, Tim." She opened her eyes, waiting for realization to dawn on him.

He blinked a few times, then allowed his brow to furrow into a worried expression. "What? What about the . . ." He trailed off as everything came together in his head – Ziva's sobbing, the bathroom, the baby . . . "Oh, Ziva . . ." he breathed, reaching for her.

She shied away from his touch, facing the tub.

He tried again, this time succeeding at placing his hand on her back. She flinched at his touch. His eyes filled with worry. He knew he needed to let her know he wasn't going anywhere, that he would be _there _for her, that they would make it _together_. "Ziva . . ." he tested, waiting for a response from her. When she remained silent, he continued. "I love you. I love you so much." His voice cracked as tears formed in his eyes. "I'm not leaving you, Ziva. Ever. We can do this, Ziva. I'm here."

"I do not need any help," Ziva responded quietly.

"Ziva, you can't do this alone," Tim insisted.

"Why not?" Ziva suddenly exploded, spinning to face him. "Do you think I am so weak that I need someone to solve my problems for me?" She gave him a wild-eyed look.

"Ziva, no, of course not!" Tim said, gathering her into a hug. "I _want _to help you, Ziva." He pulled away, holding her face in his hands. "I love you. And this was _our _baby. To see you hurting is complete agony for me. I just want to try to make you feel better. Will you let me do that?" She didn't answer, just continued to look forlorn, so he pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then leaned his forehead against hers. "All I want is you to be happy, Ziva."

She let out a small sob as she said, "This baby would have made me happy." She let the sobs take over her body for a few moments, then said, "I wanted this baby because it was something we created together."

Tim's face fell even more at that, as he struggled for the right words to reciprocate. He took a deep breath and began to speak. "Ziva, I care about you so much, as a friend, as your lover . . . and I'm not going to let tragedy be the end of this, of _us_." He grabbed one of her hands and placed it on his heart. "I'm going to try my hardest to make sure this doesn't tear us apart, that it brings us closer together. I want to prove to everyone that, yes, I love you, and yes, you love me, and yes, we are in this for the long haul, together."

Ziva smiled through her tears. "I was afraid you would . . ." She lowered her head, ashamed. "I know better, but it is so final and . . . I was responsible for the safety of our child." She looked up, the pained expression returned to her face. "I failed."

Tim could do nothing but hold her face in his hands and shake his head. "No, Ziva. Don't talk like that. You know that's not what happened."

"You don't know what happened," she responded, voice still devoid of emotion.

Tim grew worried. "Was I not there enough for you? I knew I was spending too much time working . . . You should have said something. No, no, I take that back. This isn't your fault." He grabbed her and held her at arm's length. "This _isn't_ your fault. Ziva, you have to know that. I'm not blaming you and if anyone else does, I'll . . . I don't know what I'll do, but they won't like it very much. I love you, Ziva. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Ziva allowed a tiny smile to grace her face, but her eyes still held the pain she was feeling deep inside. "I love you, too, Tim. And I could not ask for anymore than what you have already given me." She dropped her voice. "But you could not possibly have any idea how it felt."

"No, I can't," Tim agreed. "But maybe you could tell me, so I could experience this with you." Ziva gave him a horrified look, so he quickly continued, taking her hand and rubbing soothing patterns across the back of it. "I know it's not an easy thing to talk about. I just want to feel whatever it is you're feeling. I want to do everything possible to ensure that I'm there for you, in every way."

Ziva threw her arms around his shoulders, crying a little into his shirt. "I don't deserve you, Tim. What did I ever do to get you all to myself?" She looked up into his face, eager to hear his answer.

He smiled. "You were yourself, Ziva. That's all it took for me to fall in love with you. I often find myself wondering how I got so lucky that you fell in love with me, too." Ziva pulled back and he wiped away her tears. "I'm here for you. And I know that once Gibbs and the rest of the team . . ."

The look of horror returned to Ziva's face. "No," she said quietly, shaking her head. "No, I do not want to burden anyone . . ."

"It won't be a burden on anyone, Ziva," Tim assured her. "We all care about you and want what's best for you." She still looked uneasy, so he continued. "I know Tony and Gibbs aren't exactly forthcoming with their emotions, but they do care. You know that, right?"

Ziva nodded absently. "Yes. I suppose I am simply not used to that." She raised her eyes to his face. "Not that my father did not care, but," she looked down again, "were he here, he would call me weak, say what I have turned into, the person I have become, is not strong enough to handle pain, and that I am being punished for turning so soft."

Now it was Tim's turn to look horrified. "That is awful, Ziva! He would really say such a thing?"

"In a moment of anger, perhaps," she said. Her voice had returned to its normal calm tone; it was clear she had let her training kick in and was detaching herself from the situation – even though this wasn't work, it was herself. She needed to allow herself to feel, to grieve for her unborn child, the child that would never be.

Tim laid a hand on her head, gently brushing her hair. "Don't worry about what your father would say, Ziva. You're not there. You're here and you're happy here. At least I hope you are." He grinned as a slight smile passed over Ziva's face.

"You're right, Tim," she said, nodding. "My real family is here. You," he continued smiling, "and Gibbs, Abby, Ducky and yes, even Tony. You are my blood, the soul I cannot live without." Her smile became bittersweet. "I was simply hoping we could add another member, make it official."

Tim brushed silent tears from her cheeks, bringing her close to him so he could place a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Ziva, I already know you're my family. I don't need a baby to prove that." He paused. "Not that I don't want a baby with you." Ziva giggled lightly at him, then sighed, feeling guilty for laughing at such a time. Tim caressed her cheek in understanding. "It's going to be a long road, yes, but I'm going to be there every step of the way, Ziva. Don't you ever doubt that."

Ziva let out a sigh and allowed Tim's words to wash over her. She hadn't been prepared for this. Pregnancy was supposed to be a sign of her devotion to Tim, proof that there was more to her than met the eye. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, to be celebrated. Instead, something had gone horribly wrong and, just as soon as she had been blessed with the chance, the incomparable feeling of becoming a mother, the feeling of life growing inside her body, had been taken away from her.

She felt literally empty inside.

More silent tears made their way down Ziva's face and Tim, as though he could read her thoughts, pressed his forehead to hers again. "We'll try again, Ziva. This is not the end." The pulled away briefly to kiss the spot his forehead had just vacated. "I won't give up, Ziva. Not on this, not on you. Not ever." He shifted slightly, leaning against the tub and holding his arm out. "Come here." She did so, relaxing into his comforting embrace. "You know, I once heard a quote that I think we need to think about at a time like this." Ziva remained silent, signaling him to continue. "It'll be better in the end. If it's not better, it's not the end." He squeezed her gently. "It's _not _the end."

And yet, Ziva wasn't so sure. She just wasn't sure at all.

THE END


End file.
